Pity
by DemigodGleek
Summary: Set in X-Men: First Class during the training at Charles' family home. Charles proves to Erik that optimism doesn't mean ignorance or inexperience, and that it's possible to work through pain and suffering. Pre-slash to slash. WARNINGS: (Light) descriptions of child abuse and mentions of suicide. Completely unedited fluff with a touch of angst.


**Pity**

* * *

**Unedited Cherik fluff with a touch of angst. Set during the training of **_**X-Men: First Class**_**, in which Charles proves to Erik that optimism doesn't mean ignorance or inexperience, and that you can move on and work through pain without suffering too bad of a damage. Pre-slash to slash. **

**WARNINGS: (Light) descriptions of child abuse and mentions of suicide.**

* * *

Charles has put off training with Erik in fear of this exact situation, the telepath realizes miserably. He hasn't quite known why he kept postponing it – maybe it has something to do with how he feels a slightly painful, hot twist in his chest by looking at his friend – but now, it's clear. He knows Erik, and deep down, this must be what he has feared.

Erik waits patiently, grinning, as Charles points the gun at him. He's aware of his hand shaking, the unfamiliar weight in his hand heavy and absolutely _wrong_, and he struggles to breathe properly as he looks at his friend on the other side of the trigger.

He knows he can't do it, he absolutely can't, he feels weak and shaky at the thought – not because he doubts Erik's powers, he never has, but because he doubts _himself. _He doesn't know what part that plays in the situation, but he can't do it, he can't, he can't, _he can't_.

He squeezes his eyes shut and inhales deeply in a last attempt to please his friend (_shoot _his friend, he thinks, and it makes his hand shake even more), but when he reopens them, his hand fails him and falls down to his side heavily.

Erik's grin slips from his face.

"No. No, I can't. I can't shoot anybody point blank, yet alone my friend," Charles blurts. Emotions that shouldn't be there leaks in to his voice, and he sees a flash of confusion and concern in Erik's eyes and realizes that he probably has been projecting a little. He quickly shuts his mind.

"Oh, come on, you know I can deflect it," Erik insists. "You're always telling me I should push myself."

Charles squirms away from his words, protesting:

"If you know you can deflect it, then you're not challenging yourself. Whatever happened to the man who's… Who's trying to raise a submarine?"

Erik looks frustrated.

"Well, I can't. Something that big, I…I need the situation, the anger."

Charles looks at him with scrutinizing eyes.

"No, the anger is not enough," He says, almost as if he's thinking out loud.

"Well, it's gotten the job done all this time," Erik remarks defensively.

"It's nearly gotten you _killed_ all this time," Charles points out.

Erik doesn't reply. He looks away.

The telepath looks at him with slightly furrowed eyebrows, wondering how he can help his friend. Erik is too careless when it comes to his own life – too raw in his actions, letting emotions control him rather than thoughts, pushing away the consequences in the heat of the moment. The phrase _speaking before thinking _pops in to Charles' head, except Erik doesn't _think_ at all.

An idea slowly builds up in his mind, and he tightens his grip around the gun, still resting in his clenched hand. Maybe this will force Erik to think of his own actions more, make him think through the situation thoroughly before doing something.

Charles slowly raises the gun, pressing it to his own temple.

* * *

Erik goes cold.

In his peripheral vision, he sees Charles moving, and turns to him to see something seemingly spun out of his own nightmares. Charles looks at him calmly, nothing odd in his expression, hands surprisingly steady compared to when the gun was directed at Erik, but now positioned by his own head.

For some reason, Erik's mind is numb, and he doesn't immediately grasp that this is a part of their training. He forgets how to breathe as pure panic courses through him, and he must have been projecting quite clearly, because Charles' expression changes quickly from calm to one of concern.

It's over in less than the blink of an eye, and he forces down the lump in his throat and comes to his senses. It's _Charles_. It's not like suicide would be something that Charles would do – not because of how joyful he is in general, but because he has never suffered the pain that would drive you to that point; he has never been damaged beyond repair, torn apart in every way possible from both the inside and the outside, he hasn't suffered real _pain_. Even Erik hasn't been pushed that far.

Something changes in Charles' expression, jerking Erik back to reality.

"You mistake my optimism for inexperience, my friend, when I'm afraid it's quite the opposite," He says suddenly with a sad smile and pained eyes, startling Erik to realize that his thoughts must have been heard. When he sees the look of surprise on his friend's face, Charles' voice turns apologetic: "I'm sorry, I might have picked up a little more than I should have. You were looking quite pale, and I wanted to see if you were all right. Forgive me."

Erik stares at him. He's still holding the gun to his temple.

"What do you mean, the opposite?" The metal bender asks incredulously, hung up on the words, eyes momentarily twitching from the telepath's face to the weapon with wariness.

Charles looks away. The metal bender feels a twist of concern in his chest.

"Tell me," He insists.

"Nothing, Erik. It's not anything of importance," Charles says, the words such an obvious lie that Erik would have mocked him if he wasn't occupied by watching the telepath intently.

"Then show me," He suggests persuasively.

The telepath raises his head, eyes fixing on Erik incredulously. The metal bender feels a flicker of hope as Charles seems to consider it.

"I don't think that would be wise," He says at last. "Erik, it's nothing. Don't waste time worrying about me."

He says it with a genuine, small smile, but the metal bender needs to find out now, needs to see what he has missed. The tip of the gun is still touching Charles' head, and Erik's skin is suddenly crawling and itching to reach out and rip it out from the telepath's hand.

"_Charles_," Erik says simply.

Charles purses his lips.

"I can't tell you," He tells the metal bender finally. "Then I might project too powerfully and I can't guarantee you won't be pulled in to my memory, and I don't want-" He stops abruptly. "I think it'll be easier for me to throw the memory at you, but hardly for you, my friend."

He pauses, and his eyes flicker with doubt.

"Do it," Erik says quickly. His worry increases at the fact that Charles' apparently lacks control when reliving these moments. They must be strong, he thinks concernedly. "I'll be fine."

Charles looks at him warily, but then sighs in defeat. Erik opens his mouth to tell him to lower the gun first, but he's cut off by an unfamiliar memory crashing in to his mind forcefully.

He's in Charles' six year old body. He's looking up at a sneering man – admittedly handsome, but with cold eyes that doesn't seem able to display any affection. He's holding a half-full bottle in a loose grip and swaying slightly.

_Aren't you clever, _the man with the cold eyes slurs, _with your little plan to blame your stepbrother for doing something you did yourself?_

Erik realizes that this man must be Charles' stepfather. The telepath has mentioned him once or twice, but never gone any deeper than that.

_But I didn't do it! _Erik cries with Charles' mouth. His mind is seemingly his own as he relives his friend's memories, but he can still feel the emotions the young Charles has felt once, years ago. _He did break the vase, I swear! _

A flash of pain shoots through his face as the back of a hand is slammed against his cheek harshly. He staggers back, tears swelling up in his eyes-

The next thing Erik knows, the scene shifts around him, and he's now dwelling in Charles' twelve year old body.

_You were the one that sent mother away! _He shouts.

_Only for a couple of days, so I could spend some time with my sons and daughter, _his stepfather says innocently. _Isn't that fun, Charles? We'll have lots of fun, all four of us._

The young Charles knows not to believe him. He has his powers, but they're untrimmed and confused, even Erik can feel that, but he can still see exactly what kind of _fun _his stepfather has in mind, horrible images that aren't Charles' flashing through his young head.

He realizes suddenly that Raven is standing next to him, in a younger version of the blonde one she's so fond of. Her face is struck with fear.

_Raven, run! _Charles cries, flinging out an arm to protect her. _Turn in to one of the maids and run, I'll-I'll fix his mind. Just run!_

_Charles-_

Her voice is shrill, her eyes wide and horrorstruck as they flicker between the now confusedly frowning man and her brother.

_RUN!_

Erik wants to shut his eyes to what happens next, and the pain and agony feels as his own when a belt raps Charles' body repeatedly, leaving burning marks on his skin. He can hear the cries of Raven far away, along with the laughter of their stepfather.

The scene and the pain fades away. He's now fourteen, standing in front of a blonde woman with dim eyes.

_Mom? _His voice is tearful. _Mom, don't let him do this._

_You need to be sent away, _his mother says, her voice a toneless echo obviously repeating someone else's words. _Kurt says you need to be sent away. _

_But mom-Raven-_

Erik knows what this means. Charles leaving means Raven will be exposed to Kurt's abuse, and her control can't be as good as it is in the present – someone needs to be there to tamper with the minds of the people accidentally witnessing her powers failing her.

_Kurt doesn't like Raven, _the mother says, her voice far away. _Says she creeps him out. He's right. Kurt's right._

The woman dissolves, and Erik wants nothing more than get out of there, he's disgusted to the point of sickness, he wants out, _out, out, out-_

Suddenly, as if his head breaking through water after being under the surface for a too long while, he's jerked back to reality, and he can breathe again as the memory lets go of him abruptly. He staggers back a few steps, hands grasping for the railing next to him for support.

Charles is looking horrified, staring at him with wide, blue eyes.

"I'm so, so sorry," He gasps loudly, reaching out toward Erik. The gun in his hand falls to the ground with a loud clatter, and Erik feels a small flash of relief. "I'm so, so, _so_ sorry, Erik, I lost focus, I didn't-"

"It's all right," Erik growls. Anger and disgust is coursing through his veins like blood, and he is not entirely aware of how the railing warps under his touch. It's rolling off him, he knows it, and suddenly waves of calmness that aren't his own are washing over him.

_Calm down, Erik. It's in the past. _

Erik pushes Charles' serenity away defensively.

_What they did-it isn't-it wasn't-_

"-Right," Charles finishes his sentence out loud, voice incredibly soft. His hand reaches out and clasps Erik's shoulder. "I know. It wasn't right. But I'm fine. Truly."

Erik looks at him, and he doesn't feel pity, he only feels rage, rage toward the people who hurt Charles, rage toward the people that had the guts to even touch him, rage toward his family-

Charles is watching him with sad eyes.

"I mean it, Erik – I do not regret those years. They made me stronger, though I am very glad that they're over now," He chuckles slightly, but then his expression turns serious. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shown you that. I just-I didn't want you to think my optimism comes from ignorance. I do know how it's out in the real world, but I don't let it prevent me from having goals and expectations and hopes of peace. I guess I just wanted to prove a point to you."

Uncertainty is a rare emotion to catch around Charles, but that's just what's displayed in his face as his eyes flicker to the ground. He lets go of the metal bender's shoulder hesitantly. Erik watches him, astonished.

He could start an argument right here, ask Charles why he still has such bright hopes for the future after having suffered so much, tell him it's foolish. He could be mad and demand to know where Kurt and his mother are now to revenge his friend. He could press for more information from the telepath, wish to know things he hadn't been shown.

Instead, all of that melts away without leaving a trace as he watches Charles, who's still avoiding his eyes carefully.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Erik asks gently. It sounds strange to his own ears, but not wrong.

Charles' head snaps up, gaze fixing on him in surprise. Then a slow, bright, utterly wonderful smile spreads across his face.

"Yes," He answers truthfully. Erik doesn't need it, because he trusts and knows Charles now, but the telepath still stretches out his telepathy and projects his acceptance toward the suffering his family has caused him, merely to assure the metal bender.

Erik feels his own lips twitch in to a smile.

"You're admirable, Charles," He says before he can stop himself. He's not sure he would have anyway, with the way Charles' eyes lights up and his already blending smile widens.

After a charged moment where they both seem to realize just how close they're standing, the telepath clears his throat and ducks his head, still smiling bashfully.

"Let's continue the training then. No more guns, though," He laughs. "I think we've had enough of them for a while, am I right?"

And right there, Erik realizes he's in love with Charles Xavier.

* * *

Charles is all right.

He has been for years, truly. He has moved on to acceptance – of course, the memories still haunt him, but they're a mere shadow of what they used to be, and he's proud of himself for working himself through it so masterfully. It didn't affect his views of the world, his hopes or goals, because he simply wouldn't let it, and he's thankful. Raven helped. They're both fine now.

He's happy he shared the experience with Erik. He remembers the odd way his friend looked at him – a mixture of admiration, astonishment and something he couldn't quite recognize. Whatever it was, thinking of it makes him feel warm. Maybe Erik sees now that bad things happening to people doesn't make the people bad themselves.

Charles is in his room, getting ready for bed. He's lazily sleepy after a hard day's work (to be fair, the kids have made astonishing break troughs; even Erik had managed to move the huge dish, in the end – not to talk about the emotional trauma), and emerges from his personal bathroom shirtless after a warm shower, hair still slightly wet and upper body bare.

He's aware of Erik's presence close by, coming nearer. He doesn't read his thoughts, but hovers over them; there are things Charles doesn't quite recognize swirling around his friend's mind, and he's uncertain of if he wants to invade his privacy by plunging in to examine them. He doesn't have the right to invade Erik's privacy in that way, anyway – he still feels a twist of guilt when he thinks of the way he pulled the older man in to his memories so forcefully. He needs to train too, Charles thinks.

Erik hesitates a little behind Charles' door, but then comes in. Without any reluctance now, he walks inside, grabs Charles' waist in a swift motion and kisses him.

Charles takes it all in a stride, pleasant surprise filling him to his toes as a warm mouth is pressed against his own. Erik's lips are soft and moving slowly, not insistent but not hesitant either. It's lazy and gentle and generally perfect, Charles thinks happily as he loops his arms around Erik's shoulders.

They pull away shortly after they've started, but Erik's cheeks are still flushed wonderfully and his eyes bright. He grins.

"Hello to you too," Charles greets, blinking slowly and smiling. "What is this, then?"

"Take it as an apology for my earlier behavior," Erik says, and Charles feels irrationally happy at the rare feeling of Erik apologizing; almost giddier than he had felt by the touching, strong concern the metal bender had felt for him earlier today.

He leans back playfully, asking with one raised eyebrow:

"Is this pity?"

"Never," Erik swears.

"That_ is_ a pity," Charles muses mockingly. "I quite like this, and I have lots of things that you could pity me for."

"Oh, really?" The metal bender smirks slightly, his gaze flickering back and forth between his friend's lips and eyes. His arm is still looped around Charles' waist, thumb rubbing the bare skin of his back.

"Oh, yeah. Did you know Raven thinks my papers are boring? She falls asleep to them."

"That is awful," Erik murmurs, eyes entirely fixed on the telepath's mouth now. It sends a pleasant shiver down Charles' spine. "I'll make up for that, indeed. That'll need more than a single kiss, I think."

Charles laughs brightly, his breath hitching slightly at how Erik looks at him when he does, and then wraps his arms around the metal bender and kisses him soundly.


End file.
